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UNIVERSITY  OF 
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CONVENIENT     FOOD. 


BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF 
•  mx  WExX,"  "  MY  STATION  AND  ITS  DUTIES,**  Ac 


•  Open  thy  mouth  wide,  and  I  will  fill  iW'—Psalm  Ixxxl.  lOl 


NEW-YORK: 

PUBLISHED  BY  THE  GEN.  PROTESTANT  EPISCOPAL- 
SUNDAY    SCHOOL 

UN  I  aN. 


See  Page  6. 


CONVENIENT      FOOD. 


Little  Frances  was  crying  ;  her  sister  Mary,  hearing 
her  sobs,  ran  in  haste  to  inquire  what  had  happened ;  and 
saw  her  sitting  in  a  corner  of  the  nursery,  looking  rather 
sulky,  as  if  she  had  recently  received  some  disappoint- 
ment. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  dear  little  Frances  ?  why  do  you 
cry  so  ?" 

Frances  pouted,  and  would  make  no  reply. 
"  Tell  me,  dear  Frances ;  perhaps  I  can  do  something 
for  you." 
#^      "  Nothing,  Mary,"  she  sobbed,  "  on^jy" — 
^       "  Only  what,  little  Frances  1  It  cannot  be  nothing  that 
«k^  makes  you  cry  so  bitteily." 

^      "  Only  mamma  would  not  give — "  she  looKed  a  little 
X  ashamed,  and  did  not  finish  her  sentence. 


4  CONVENIENT  FOOD. 

"  H'Tiat  would  she  not  give  ?" 

"Nothing." 

"  Nothing  !  O  Frances,  I  am  afraid  there  is  something 
r  naughty." 

Frances  shook  her  elbows,  as  if  troubled  by  Mary's 
inquiries,  but  the  tears  continued  flowing  down  her 
cheeks. 

Just  at  that  moment  their  sister  Anne  came  into  the 
room,  singing  in  the  joy  of  her  heart,  with  a  piece  of 
plum-cake  in  her  hand,  holding  it  up,  and  turning  it 
about  before  her  sisters  to  exhibit  her  newly-acquired 
possession,  on  which  Frances  fixed  her  eyes  with  eager 
gaze,  and  the  tears  flowed  still  faster,  accompanied  with 
a  kind  of  angry  sob. 

"  Frances  !  what  is  the  matter  that  you  are  crying  so? 
see  what  I  have  got !  you  will  spoil  all  the  happiness  of 
our  feast." 

At  the  \vovd  feast,  Frances'  tears  seemed  arrested,  and 
her  mouth  looked  as  if  she  was  going  to  smile.  She  left 
the  corner,  and  immediately  prepared  to  do  her  part  for 
the  feast,  setting  a  little  square  table,  and  then,  drawing 
her  own  little  stool,  seated  herself  in  readiness  as  a  guest. 

"  Stay,"  said  Anne,  "  we  will  make  some  little  paper 
dishes  and  plates,  and  divide  the  cake  ;"  so  saying,  she 
began  the  operation,  and  laying  down  the  paper  dishes, 
"there  at  the  top,  see !  there  shall  be  two  chickens,  at 
the  bottom  a  piece  of  beef,  at  one  side  some  potatoes,  and 
at  the  other  some  cauliflower  ;"  breaking  her  cake  into 
small  pieces  to  correspond  to  her  imagined  provision. 

Frances  looked  very  impatient  at  the  long  preparation.  * 
and  as  Anne  seated  herself,  inviting  Mary  to  partake  .'j 
Frances  stretched  o^t  her  hand  to  take  the  beef  for  her  . 
own  portion.  "TJ 


CONVENIENT  FOOD.  5 

"  No,  no,  Frances,  you  must  not  help  yourself,  you 
know ;  wait  until  we  all  begin  in  order." 

Frances  very  reluctantly  withdrew  her  hand,  and, 
whilst  she  waited,  betrayed  her  impatience  by  a  little 
jerking  motion  of  the  body,  that  threw  her  breast  against 
the  table,  as  if  she  would  beat  time  into  quicker  motion. 

"  Oh  we  must  not  forget  William  !"  Anne  exclaimed; 
"  Where  is  he?  he  must  taste  our  feast ;  stay  here,  Mary, 
with  Frances,  and  I  will  go  and  find  him." 

Away  she  ran,  and  left  poor  Frances  in  a  fret  at  this 
additional  delay,  but  she  began  to  amuse  herself  by  pick- 
ing up  the  small  crumbs  that  had  been  scattered  on  the 
stool,  and  at  last  proceeded  to  touch  the  beef  and  chick- 
ens. 

"  Do  not  do  so,  Frances,"  Mary  said,  in  a  reproving 
voice. 

Frances  colored. 

"  Do  not  sit  looking  on,  if  you  are  so  impatient ;  em- 
ploy yourself,  and  get  a  seat  ready  for  William." 

"  You  may  get  it,  Mary." 

"  Very  well :  only  do  not  meddle  with  Anne's  feast." 

Mary  had  to  go  into  another  room  for  the  seat,  and 
whilst  she  was  away,  Frances  quickly  helped  herself  to 
half  of  the  pieces  which  were  on  the  dishes,  and,  when 
Mary  returned,  resumed  her  position  as  if  nothing  had , 
happened.  Mary  was  so  busy  in  arranging  the  seats,, 
that  she  did  not  observe  what  had  been  done. 

Presently  Anne  came  back,  accompanied  by  her 
brother  William  ;  hastening  to  her  place,  and  looking  on 
her  table,  she  started  with  surprise,  and  seemed  to  say 
to  herself,  as  she  gazed, '  How  came  I  to  make  a  mistake, 
and  think  my  pieces  of  cake  were  larger  ?'  but  the  expres- 
sion of  her  face  called  Mary's  attention,  who  at  once  said, 


6  CONVENIENT  FOOD. 

"  Anne,  I  am  sure  you  placed  larger  pieces  on  your 
dishes." 

** Indeed,  I  thought  so,  Mary;  who  has  taken  any?" 

"  I  do  not  know." 

"  Oh  you  are  only  pretending,  and  you  have  been 
hiding  some." 

"  No,  Anne  ;  I  would  not  have  said  '  I  do  not  know,'  ii 
I  had  hid  it." 

"  No,  no  more  you  would,  dear  Mary.  Never  mind," 
she  said,  glancing  a  look  at  Frances,  not  altogether  with- 
out suspicion,  "  it  is  only  to  play  with,  it  does  not  signify 
whether  it  is  much  or  little." 

"  William,  shall  I  help  you  to  a  little  chicken  ?" 

"  Oh  no,  Anne,  you  have  forgot,  help  the  ladies  first; 
and  beside,  you  ought  to  have  placed  me  at  the^bottom 
of  the  table  to  carve  this  dish.      What  is  it  ?" 

«  Beef,  William." 

"  Oh,  beef,  very  well  I  Come,  Miss  Frances,  let  me  sit 
there,  and  you  come  to  the  side  of  the  table." 

In  haste  to  begin  the  eating  part  of  the  play,  she  rose 

immediately  to  change  places,  when,  to  her  disgrace,  a 

quantity  of  crumbs,  which  had  lodged  unobserved  in  a 

fold  of  her  frock,  fell  out,  and  disordered  the  neatness  of 

^the  table. 

"  There  !"  said  William,  "  we  have  no  question  to  ask 
who  took  the  liberty  to  lessen  the  dishes." 

"  For  shame,  William,  I — " 

"  O  Frances,  take  care  what  you  say,  tell  no  false- 
hoods ;  I  will  tell  one  truth,  and  say  you  are  a  greedy 
girl." 

Frances  began  to  cry  again,  "  For  shame,  William,  to 
call  me  names." 

« I  tell  no  names,  I  only  say  what  I  think ;  and  how 


CONVENIENT  FOOD.  7 

can  I  help  it,  when  it  is  only  just  now  you  cried  so,  be- 
cause you  said  mamma  had  given  me  a  larger  piece  of 
cake  than  yourself;  for  you  must  know,"  he  continued, 
turning  to  Mary,  "  we  have  both  had  one  piece  before, 
and  she  half  of  mine  to  make  her  quiet ;  and  then  she 
cried  again,  because  a  piece  was  put  by  for  you  and 
Anne,  and  she  cannot  be  contented  now,  though  Anne 
shares  hers  amongst  us.  If  this  is  not  being  greedy,  I 
do  not  know  what  greedy  means.  It  is  no  names,  it  is 
only  saying  what  a  thing  is." 

"Now  I  know  another  thing,"  said  Anne;  "when 
mamma  called  me  to  receive  my  piece  of  cake,  she  said, 
'And  you  shall  take  a  piece  also  to  Mary,  but  when  she 
unfolded  the  paper,  there  was  only  one  piece  ;  mamma 
did  not  say  any  thing,  but  I  think  she  thought  some- 
thing." 

At  this  remark,  Frances  redoubled  her  crying,  but,  for 
the  sake  of  a  share  of  the  present  feast,  did  not  attempt 
to  leave  the  party.  No  more  was  said,  and  the  feast 
was  concluded  in  good  humor  by  all  except  the  con- 
scious greedy  girl,  and  they  then  all  went  into  the  garden 
together  to  finish  their  hour's  recreation  before  they 
were  called  again  to  their  lessons. 

There  was  a  little  plantation  of  young  fir-trees  at  one 
corner  of  the  garden,  intended  to  grow  there  for  shel- 
ter from  the  north-west  wind  :  the  grass  was  so  high 
amongst  them,  that  the  gardener  had  orders  to  go  and 
carefully  mow  it  down.  He  was  engaged  in  the  busi- 
ness when  the  children  ran  out  to  see  him  work. 

"Hush!  hush!"  he  exclaimed,  as  they  approached, 
"  I  have  just  cleared  a  bough  from  the  grass,  and  see 
what's  there  !" 

All  curiosity,  they  went  forward  on  tip-toe,  and  were 


8       •  CONVENIENT  POOD. 

directed  to  something  lodged  on  the  spreading  branch 
of  a  young  larch. 


"  A  bird's  nest !"  said  William. 

"  A  bird's  nest !"  they  all  repeated.  "  But  what  is  in 
it,  I  cannot  tell." 

"  Look  steadily,"  said  the  gardener,  "  and  you  will 
find  out." 

It  was  difficult  to  trace  what  it  was ;  something  all 
•in  a  heap,  brown  naked  skin;  alive,  as  might  be  known 
by  the  heaving  breathing. 

William  putting  his  finger  to  touch  them,  immediately 
four  wide  mouths  stretched  open,  with  little  tongues 
raised,  and  the  opening  of  their  throats  extended  to  the 
utmost. 

"  Look  at  the  little  things,"  said  William ;  "  they 
thought  their  mother  was  come,  when  I  touched  the 
branch,  and  they  have  opened  their  mouths  to  be  ready 
to  receive  what  she  would  put  in." 

"  They  are  blind .'"  said  William. 


CONVENIENT   FOOD.  9 

"  Yes,  they  cannot  have  been  hatched  more  than  two 
days." 

"  Will  they  take  what  the  mother  gives  them  ?"  asked 
William. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  man,  "  they  trust  her,  and  swallow 
down  what  she  puts  into  their  mouths." 

"  I  wish  the  mother  would  come,"  said  Anne. 

*'  But  she  will  not  whilst  we  are  here,"  William  re- 
plied. 

"  Touch  it  again,  William,"  said  Frances. 

William  touched  the  edge  of  the  nest.  "  See  !"  said 
he,  "  they  think  the  mother  is  come,  they  stretch  their 
mouths  still  wider." 

"  Hark  !"  said  Mary,  "  what  an  impatient  noise  they 
make,  they  look  ready  to  stretch  themselves  out  of  their 
nest,  and  as  if  their  little  mouths  would  tear." 

"  Poor  little  things  !  do  not  disappoint  them,  give  them 
something,"  said  Anne. 

"We  have  not  proper  food  for  them,"  said  William. 

"  I  will  run  and  fetch  some  crumbs,"  said  Mary. 

Mary  soon  returned  with  a  piece  of  bread,  and  giving 
it  to  her  brother  as  the  most  experienced,  he  brol^e  it 
into  extremely  small  crumbs,  and,  again  touching  the 
nest,  awakened  the  expectation  of  the  young  birds:  they 
opened  their  mouths  wide,  and  as  he  dropped  a  small 
crumb  into  each,  they  moved  their  tongues,  trying  to 
make  it  pass  down  into  their  throat.  "  Poor  little  things, 
they  cannot  swallow  well,  they  want  the  mother  to  put 
it  gently  down  their  throat  with  her  beak." 

"  See  !  see !"  said  all  the   girls,   "  they  want  more ; 
give  them  more." 

William  dropped  his  crumbs  again. 
"  More,  more,  William  ;  see !  they  are  not  satisfied." 
1* 


JC  CONVENIENT    FOOD. 

"  I  dare  not  give  them  more  for  fear  of  killing  them  : 
we  cannot  feed  them  like  the  mother.  We  will  stand 
still  at  a  little  distance,  and  you  will  see  them  go  to 
sleep."  When  all  was  quiet,  the  little  nestlings  shut 
their  mouths,  and  dropped  their  heads. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  the  mother  feed  them." 

"  You  would  see  how  much  better  she  would  do  it 
than  we  can  ;  perhaps,  if  we  could  conceal  ourselves  be- 
hind that  laurel,  she  would  come,  but  she  will  be  very- 
frightened,  because  all  is  so  altered  now  the  grass  is  cut 
down,  and  her  nest  is  exposed  :  but  I  dare  say  she  is  not 
far  off,  she  will  be  watching  somewhere." 

They  took  William's  hint,  and  retreated  behind  the 
laurel ;  they  had  not  waited  ten  minutes,  before  the  hen 
bird  flitted  past,  and,  darting  over  the  larch,  as  if  to  in- 
spect whether  her  little  brood  was  safe,  she  disappeared 
again.  In  a  few  minutes  more,  she  returned;  and  skim- 
ming round  to  reconnoitre  that  all  was  safe,  she  perched 
upon  the  nest.  Instantly  the  little  nestlings  were  awake  to 
the  summons  of  her  touch  and  chirp,  and,  opening  their 
mouths  wide,  were  ready  for  what  she  would  give.  She 
dropt  a  small  fly  into  the  mouth  of  one  of  them,  and, 
having  no  more,  flew  away  to  provide  for  the  other 
hungry  mouths  as  fast  as  she  could.  As  soon  as  she 
was  gone,  they  again  shut  their  mouths,  and  dropped 
their  heads  in  silence. 

"  What  a  little  bit  she  gave  them,"  said  Frances. 

"Yes,"  answered  William,  "but  she  knows  it  is 
'plenty.'''' 

"  How  contented  the  others  seem  to  wait  till  she 
comes  again !" 

"Yes,  Mary,"  William  again  answered,  unable  to 
resist  the  comparison  which  had  come  to  his  mind," 


CONVENIENT  FOOD,  11 

"  they  did  not  take  the  little  bit  away  from  the  other. 
Shall  we  wait  till  she  comes  again  ?" 

«  O  do !" 

"  Very  well,  I  want  to  see  whether  the  one  that  was 
fed  first  will  take  away  the  bit  the  others  get." 

The  allusion  made  a  little  laugh,  but,  seeing  that 
Frances  understood  and  felt  that  it  applied  to  her,  Anne 
said,  "  Do  not  let  us  tease  Frances ;  it  is  better  to  tell 
her  at  once  what  her  fault  is,  than  to  seem  to  like  to 
hurt  her." 

"  Indeed,  dear  Anne,  I  have  not  spared  to  tell  her  her 
fault,  as  she  knows  very  well,  for  she  has  often  given 
me  reason,  but  I  cannot  make  her  ashamed  of  such 
things  J  and  I  know  mamma  is  very  uneasy  to  see  it  in 
her." 

Frances  looked  grave,  but  did  not  cry  ;  tniTiing  pale, 
however,  she  said,  "  O  Mary,  take  me  out  of  this  laurel 
—I  am  so  sick !" 

Mary  hastened  to  take  her  into  the  freer  air,  but  ad  in 
vain.  The  sisters  were  alarmed,  and  took  her  in  to  their 
mamma ;  who  received  her  gravely,  without  expressing 
any  concern  for  her  indisposition, 

"What  can  we  do  for  Frances,  Mamma?  Will  you 
let  her  have  your  smeUing  bottle ;  or  shall  I  run  and  get 
some  sal  volatile  ?" 

"  Neither,  my  dear  Mary ;  it  is  an  indisposition  caused 
by  her  own  selfish  appetite,  and  probably  the  relief  may 
be  obtained  by  her  stomach  rejecting  what  she  so  im- 
properly forced  upon  it.  We  will  wait  a  short  time, 
and  if  not,  I  will  give  her  something,  less  palatable,  per- 
haps, than  plum-cake,  but  necessary  to  remove  it." 

Frances  was  too  ill  to  make  any  remark ;  she  became 
paler  still,  and  then  quickly  flushed  almost  a  crimson 


12  CONVENIENT    FOOD. 

color:  her  eyes  were  oppressed,  and  her  eyebrows  con 
traded,  and  she  impatiently  complained, 

"  Oh  my  head  !  how  it  beats !  What  shall  I  do.  Mam- 


ma 


v> 


"  Bear  the  consequences  of  your  own  inordinate  appe- 
tite, Frances,  and  learn  to  subject  it  to  the  wholesome 
rules  of  temperance." 

"  Oil  the  nasty  plum-cake  !  I  wish  you  had  not  given 
me  any.  Mamma." 

"  You  once  thought  the  plum-cake  nice,  and  would 
not  be  contented  with  the  small  portion  I  knew  to  be 
sufficient  and  safe  for  you." 

"  Oh  my  head  !  I  think  it  is  very  cruel,  Mamma,  that 
you  do  not  pity  me." 

"  I  do  pity  you,  Frances,  and  will  take  care  of  you,  now 
that  I  see  you  require  help,  as  I  perceive  you  will  not 
have  any  relief  without  medicine." 

Frances  began  again  to  cry,  "  Oh,  I  am  so  sick !  I 
cannot  take  medicine !    I  am  sure  I  cannot !" 

II 


**Come  to  your  room,   Frances;    I  shall  give  you 
something  proper,  and  you  had  better  lie  down  after 


JONVENIENT  FOOD.  13 

you  have  taken  it ;  you  will,  perhaps,  drop  into  a  sleep, 
and  be  well  when  you  awake  again."  Her  mamma 
took  her  hand,  and  led  her  up  stairs,  and  Frances  knew 
very  well  it  was  in  vain  to  make  any  objection,  as  her 
mamma  always  made  a  point  of  obedience.  The  medi- 
cine was  administered,  although  for  some  time  Frances 
refused  to  look  at  it.  When  she  laid  down,  her  mamma 
placed  the  pillow  high  under  her  head,  and  drawing  the 
curtain  to  shade  the  light,  left  the  room  that  she  might 
be  perfectly  quiet.  And  when  she^  returned  to  the 
drawing-room,  she  inquired  of  the  other  children  what 
they  had  been  doing,  and  received  a  full  account  of  the 
feast,  and  the  bird's  nest,  and  all  the  little  circumstances 
of  each. 

It  was  time  to  resume  their  studies,  and,  except  that 
Frances  was  not  in  her  usual  place,  all  things  proceeded 
as  before.  When  the  lessons  were  finished,  they  entreat- 
ed their  mamma  to  go  with  them,  and  see  the  bird's  nest. 

"It  is  so  pretty,  Mamma!"  said  Anne;  "and  they 
know  when  the  mother  comes,  and  they  take  what  she 
puts  into  their  mouths." 

"We  will  first  inquire  after  Frances,"  she  answered; 
"  if  she  is  well  enough,  she  can  accompany  us." 

"  I  will  run  up,  if  you  will  be  putting  on  your  bonnet 
and  shawl.  Mamma." 

"  Very  well,  I  hope  you  will  find  her  recovered :  we 
will  wait  your  return." 

Anne  soon  returned, — "  She  is  gone  !  I  do  not  see  her 
any  where !" 

"  Gone !  Oh  perhaps  we  shall  find  her  at  play  in  the 
garden." 

In  this  expectation  they  all  went  out,  and  as  they 
drew  near  the  spot  where    the  nest  was,  they  saw 


14  CONVENIENT    POOD. 

Frances  looking  very  eagerly  into  the  nest,  and  seem- 
ing to  be  in  some  agitation.  Then  she  threw  something 
out  of  her  hand,  and  ran  away,  as  if  wanting  not  to  be 
seen. 

"She  is  about  some  mischief,"  William  said,  and  ran 
forward  to  the  nest.  But  what  was  his  grief  to  see  one  of 
the  little  birds  dead  on  the  ground,  two  others  in  the  nest 
with  pieces  of  bread  sticking  in  their  mouths,  gasping, 
unable  to  swallow  or  reject  it,  and  the  fourth  with  its 
crop  gorged,  and.slowly  moving  its  little  unfledged  head 
from  side  to  side,  struggling  ia  death. 

Full  of  sympathy  with  the  little  sufferer,  and  indig- 
nant with  Frances,  he  exclaimed,  "  Provoking  girl !  she 
has  stuffed  the  little  creatures  as  she  would  like  to  stuff 
herself;  and  I  belief  she  has  killed  them  all." 

The  lively  interest  the  other  children  had  in  the  nest^ 
impelled  them  to  hasten  to  the  spot,  and  their  lamenta- 
tions, and  even  tears  soon  flowed. 

"William,  William,  cannot  you  do  any  thing  for 
them  ?  do  try." 

"  Well,  stand  still,  and  do  not  shake  my  arm  ;"  so  say- 
ing, he  began  the  attempt,  and  drew  the  bread  carefully 
out  of  the  distended  mouths  of  the  two. 

"  Now  the  other  !  the  other,  William  !" 

"  That  I  cannot  help,"  he  answered  :  "  see !  she  has 
forced  it  down,  and  we  cannot  get  it  back  again ;  it  is 
dying  now." 

Anne  picked  up  the  dead  body  from  off  the  ground, 
and  stroking  it  with  her  forefinger,  "  Poor  little  thing  !" 
she  said,  "  was  slie  so  cruel  to  you  !" 

It  was  not  long  before  they  heard  a  rustling  in  the 
tree  near  the  place,  and  then  a  chirp  of  fright  and  dis- 
tress.   "  Ah  1"  said  their  mamma,  "  there  is  the  mother  I 


CONVENIENT   FOOD. 


15 


poor  things,  we  will  go  a  little  distance  to  let  her  come 
to  the  nest ;  perhaps  she  will  be  able  to  save  the  two." 

They  all  withdrew,  and  the  little  parent  bird  was  soon 
on  her  nest,  fluttering  and  chirping  to  awaken  the  dead 
and  dying  little  ones,  till  at  length  she  sorrowfully  brood- 
ed down  on  her  nest,  and  spread  her  wings  over  them, 
occasionally  chirping  as  if  to  solicit  an  answer  from  her 
little  brood. 

"Oh  !"  said  Mary,  bursting  into  tears,  "  I  cannot  bear 
it !  cruel  Frances,  to  be  so  unkind  to  the  little  birds  !" 

"Go  and  find  Frances,"  said  their  mamma,  "  and  bring 
her  to  me." 

"  I  will  go,"  William  answered,  "  I  think  I  know 
where  she  will  hide  herself." 

It  was  not  long  before  William  returned,  leading 
Frances,  who  very  reluctantly  yielded  to  accompany 
him. 

"  Come  here,"  said  her  mamma,  stopping  the  accu- 


sations she  saw  were  ready  to  overwhelm  the  offending 
little  girl  j  "  come  here,  and  let  me  talk  to  you  about 


l6  CONVENIENT    FOOD.  * 

this  sad  thing  you  have  done  to  the  httle  birds.    Do  you 
see  what  you  have  done  by  your  ill-judged  kindness?'' 

"  Kindness  !  Mamma,"  they  all  exclaimed. 

"  Yes,  dear  children,  she  has  been  very  faulty,  but  1 
believe  she  meant  to  be  kind,  and  through  ignorance  dia 
this  thing  which  proves  the  death  of  the  birds.  You 
would  not  have  done  it,  William,  because  you  have 
already  learned  there  is  such  a  thing  as  a  necessary  pru 
dence  to  deal  out  your  morsels  with  wisdom,  and  in  a 
measure  suited  to  the  age  and  the  capacity  of  the  birds, 
and  also  that  their  food  should  be  of  a  wholesome  kind, 
suitable  to  their  nature.  Nothing  of  this  did  Frances 
know,  and  it  seems  she  had  not  learned  wisdom  from  the 
circumstances  she  had  herself  so  lately  fallen  into. 

"  It  reminds  me  of  the  Scripture,  which  teaches  us  to 
profit.  '  Open  thy  mouth  wide,  and  I  will  fill  it.'  These 
little  birds  first  attracted  your  attention  by  their  open 
mouths,  which  they  had  stretched  to  receive  what  their 
poor  mother  was  preparing  to  put  into  them.  As  she 
lighted  on  the  edge  of  their  nest,  they  instinctively  open- 
ed their  little  yellow-edged  beaks  ;  she  delighted  to  see 
them  do  so ;  and  they,  taking  with  content  what  she 
had  provided  for  them,  with  the  utmost  confidence 
swallowed  it  down.  She  had  a  bit  for  every  one  of 
them  in  turn,  and  they  waited  patiently  until  it  w^as 
given  them.  All  was  well  whilst  they  were  nourished 
with  parental  tenderness  and  prudence,  and  none  other 
meddled  with  them,  or  ventured  to  give  them  other 
things,  which  they,  being  blind,  received  and  knew  not 
the  hand  that  gave,  nor  the  consequences  of  eating  food 
not  such  as  their  parent  would  have  provided. 

"  Here  you  see  Frances,  neither  prudent  nor  aware  of 
consequences,  has  stuffed  these  little  birds  with  jm- 


CONVENIENT    FOOD.  17 

proper  food,  both  in  quality  and  quantity.  The  conse- 
quences are  fatal ;  one  is  dead,  another  is  dying,  and  it  is 
very  uncertain  whether  the  others  also  will  not  die.  She 
fed  them  without  measure,  and  their  crops  and  throats 
were  gorged  so  as  to  stop  their  breathing.  They  took  it 
greedily,  because  they  knew  not  the  fatal  consequences. 

"  Frances,  you  are  a  greedy  girl.  You  had  been 
suffering  for  this  offence,  and  had  not  the  wisdom  to  leave 
it  to  me  to  apportion  your  food.  You  opened  your 
mouth  wide,  but  you  must  remember  it  is  not  written 
that  you  are  to  fill  it  according  to  your  own  desires. 
'I  will  fill  it,'  saith  the  Lord.  He  knows  what  is  good 
for  us,  and  he  will  measure  his  bounty  according  to  his 
own  wisdom." 

Frances  began  to  look  ashamed  and  sorrowful. 

"  I  was  to  you,"  her  mamma  continued,  "  in  the  affair 
of  the  cake,  endeavoring  to  fulfil  this  my  duty,  but  you 
rebelled  against  my  discretion,  and  would  covet  more 
than  was  right.  You  helped  yourself^  you  gorged  your 
stomach.  You  were  cross  and  peevish,  and  ill,  and 
when  the  medicine  had  relieved  you,  as  it  was  designed, 
you,  without  reflection,  sallied  forth  and  suffocated  the 
little  birds.  You  could  not  feed  them  as  the  mother 
would.  You  could  not  find  in  the  air  and  on  the  ground 
the  little  insects,  and  small  worms  and  little  grains 
which  were  their  proper  food,  and  you  should  have  left 
it  to  their  own  mother  to  fill  their  opened  mouths.  She 
would  have  made  no  mistake  either  in  the  quality  or 
quantity  convenient  for  them." 

"  Oh,"  Mary  said,  "  how  that  reminds  me  of  the 
scripture  in  Proverbs  xxx.  8,  'Feed  me  with  food  con- 
venient for  me.'  " 

"  Yes,  my  dear  girl,  it  is  a  Scripture  of  great  import- 


18  CONVENrENT    FOOD. 

ance;  and  often  does  it  impress  my  mind  in  combina- 
tion with  the  other  I  mentioned,  Ps.  Ixxxi.  10,  '  Open 
thy  mouth  wide,  and  /  will  fill  it,'  in  their  spiritual 
application,  when  I  am  providing  for  you,  and  dividing 
out  your  portions,  and  considering  what  diet  is  most 
suited  to  your  constitution,  and  limitmg  the  quantity 
of  dainty  or  rich  luxuries  not  convenient  for  you.  I  am 
also  frequently  led  to  apply  it  to  myself,  and  to  offer  my 
petition  to  the  Lord  that  he  will  graciously  judge  for 
me,  both  temporally  and  spiritually  to  fll  my  mouth, 
and  feed  me  with  food  convenient  for  me." 

"  I  think  too,  Mamma,  that  there  is  some  meaning 
belonging  to  this  in  our  Lord's  teaching  us  to  praj^, 
'Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread,'  Matt.  vi.  11." 

"  Assuredly,  my  dear  child,  and  I  am  rejoiced  to  find 
you  are  led  by  this  subject  to  compare  spiritual  things 
with  spiritual. 

"  You  see  how  the  word  of  God  interprets  itself,  and 
we  are  taught  to  go  direct  to  the  bounteous  hand  who 
giveth  liberally,  but  never  wastefully.  Our  daily  bread 
is  sufficient  for  the  day,  and  we  must  wait  on  him  still 
for  the  daily  bread  of  the  succeeding  day ;  so  we  are 
instructed  to  open  our  mouths  wide  to  ask  the  Lord  to 
fulfil  his  promise  and  to  fill  them,  and  to  be  contented 
with  convenient  food." 

'•  Oh,  Mamma,  you  cannot  think  how  many  Scriptures 
seem  to  come  to  my  mind,  and  to  give  me  a  clearer 
understanding.  You  know  the  manna  which  was  given 
in  the  wilderness,  was  convenient  food  when  it  was 
gathered  daily  as  the  Lord  commanded,  but  when  they 
laid  it  up,  you  know  it  was  no  longer  convenient^  for  it 
stunk  and  bred  worms.  Does  not  this  teach  us  to  trust 
God  as  well  as  not  to  disobey  him  ?" 


CONVENIENT    FOOD.  19 

"  May  this  ready  application  of  the  word  of  God  pro- 
ceed from  that  grace,  my  child,  which  teaches  you,  like 
Job,  to  esteem  the  word  of  God  more  than  your  neces- 
sary food,  for  you  will  also  remember  what  our  Lord  said 
to  the  tempter,  'It  is  written,  Man  does  not  live  by 
bread  alone.,  but  by  every  loord  that  proceedethout  of  the 
mouth  of  God.'  But  we  are  too  apt  to  forget  this,  and 
to  imagine  we  can  provide  well  for  ourselves  by  fulfil- 
ling the  desires  and  lusts  of  the  flesh,  and  by  so  doing,  we 
are  likely  to  be  brought  to  forget  God,  the  bountiful 
and  wise  Supplier  of  all  our  warts." 

"  I  remember  the  text,  Mamma,  which  has  in  it, 
'  Feed  me  with  food  convenient  for  me ;'  and  in  another 
part, '  lest  I  be  full  and  deny  thee,'  Prov.  xxx.  9  :  and  this 
little  bird's  nest  has  helped  me  to  understand  it  better." 

"May  the  Holy  Spirit  engrave  it  on  your  heart,  for 
it  will  often  remind  you  of  the  thankful  contentedness 
with  whicli  you  ought  to  wait  on  the  Lord." 

"  Yes,  Mamma,"  William  said,  "  but  there  is  no  harm, 
you  know,  in  opening  the  mouth  wide?'' 

"No,  William,  certainly  no  harm,  for  it  is  a  duty. 
'  Open  thy  mouth  wide,'  is  an  injunction  of  God,  but  it 
is  immediately  subjoined  and  strictly  said,  '  and  I  will 
fill  it.'  Therefore  bear  in  mind  the  double  instruction. 
Neither  take  the  filling  on  yourself,  nor  be  ready  to 
swallow  every  crude  and  unwholesome  morsel  which 
the  ignorant  or  the  wicked  would  present  to  you.  Do 
you  remember  a  certain  day  last  week  when  something 
happened  ?" 

William  looked  anxious  to  recollect  what  his  mamma 
alluded  to,  and  in  less  than  a  minute  he  shook  his  head, 
and  said,  "  Ah,  Mamma,  that  is  too  bad,  you  mean  when 
Mrs.  Arnot  called,  and  you  were  out." 


20  CONVENIENT    FOOD. 

"  Yes  I  do,  William  ;  you  all  opened  your  mouths 
wide,  and  she  filled  them.  Her  sweet  things  did  not 
prove  convenient  food.  You  see,  therefore,  we  should 
learn  to  discriminate  between  a  heavenly  Father's  pro- 
vision, and  that  of  a  stranger,  whose  busy  interference 
may  cost  you  your  life.  I  was  not  many  minutes  away 
from  my  little  nest,  when  a  stranger  came,  and,  by  mis- 
taken kindness,  made  you  all  ill. 

"  Frances,  have  you  never  read  that  scripture:  'Put 
a  knife  to  thy  throat,  if  thou  be  a  man  given  to  appe- 
tite.' " 

Frances  cried,  and,  sobbing,  said,  "I  do  not  know 
what  it  means." 

"  What  can  it  mean,  my  dear  Frances,  but  parallel  with 
those,  '  If  thy  right  eye  offend  thee,  pluck  it  out ;  if  thy 
right  hand  oflfend  thee,  cut  it  off.  It  is  better  for  thee 
to  enter  into  life  halt  or  maimed,  than,  having  two  hands 
or  two  feet,  to  be  cast  into  everlasting  fire,'  Matt.  v.  29, 
30;  xviii.  8,  9.  It  means  that  spirit  which  will  sacri- 
fice the  lust  of  the  heart,  and  deny  itself,  though  .. 
should  be  a  present  mortification.  The  throat  of  an 
inordinate  or  diseased  appetite  is  to  be  cut,  and  its  car- 
nal desires  crucified." 

"W^as  it  not  something  of  this  kind  that  Isaac  fell 
into  when  he  sent  Esau  to  hunt  venison,  and  make  him 
savoury  meat,  such  as  his  soul  loved  ?  Gen.  xxvii.  4." 

"Yes,  William,  and  this  very  thing  he  desired  pre- 
sented the  temptation  by  which  he  was  deceived.  And 
you  might  have  mentioned,  too,  how  Esau  himself 
yielded  to  his  appetite,  and  sold  his  birthright  for  a 
mess  of  pottage,  Gen.  xxv.  29.  When  we  yield  to 
these  propensities  of  the  flesh,  we  lay  a  snare  for  our 
own  souls,  and  expose  our  weakness  to  an  adversary, 


CONVENIENT    FOOD. 


21 


ever  ready  to  take  advantage  of  our  infirmity.  It  is  a 
common  fault  in  children  to  desire  with  greedy  appetite 
such  food  as  is  pernicious,  and  to  wish  for  more  than 
even  a  mouth  opened  wide  requires — till  at  length  they 
learn  to  lust  dSver  forbidden  things.  And  what  does  it 
lead  to  ?  Frances,  you  began  to  pick  and  steal,  and  your 
own  iniquity  chastised  you : — you  were  sick  and  ill." 

Frances  hid  her  face  in  her  frock. 

"Ah,  Mamma,"  said  Anne,  "I  shall  be  afraid  of 
wanting  any  thing,  as  I  used  to  do ;  and  I  hope  I  shall 
remember  how  much  better  you  can  feed  me,  than  I 
can  feed  myself." 

"  I  wish  I  may  too,"  said  William.  "  If  Eve  had  but 
waited  for  the  Lord  only  to  fill  her  mouth,  she  would 
not  have  eaten  that  which  brought  sin  and  death." 

"  Tell  me,  Frances,  if  you  feel  the  force  of  all  we  have 
learned  from  the  little  birds,  and  your  own  mistaken 
idea  of  what  would  be  good  for  them?" 

Frances  did  not  answer. 


*'«  CONVENIENT    FOOD. 

"  But  you  know,  my  child,  you  were  guilty  of  an- 
other fault;  when  the  medicine  was  offered,  which  was 
likely  to  do  you  good,  yourefused  to  open  your  mouth, 
and  was  long  before  you  would  let  me  fill  it ;  so  you  see 
we  must  leave  it  all  to  the  Lord  to  give  us  much  or 
little,  bitter  or  sweet,  just  as  he  knows  to  be  convenient 
for  us." 

"  Yes,"  Mary  said,  "these  poor  little  birds  will  long 
teach  us  a  lesson.  We  may  imitate  them  to  open  our 
mouth  wide,  but  we  must  be  warned  by  what  happened 
to  them,  to  let  the  Lord  only  nil  them." 

"Let  us  look  again  at  the  nest."  They  approached 
and  frightened  the  mother  so,  that  she  flew  off. 

"See,  see!  William,"  said  Anne,  "the  two  little 
things  are  opening  their  mouths  again.  Oh  how  de- 
lightful !  let  us  never  meddle  with  them  any  more- 
Only  remember,  '  Open  thy  mouth  wide,  and  I  will  fill 
it.'  Now,  Frances,  do  not  cry  any  more  :  come,  we 
will  play  together,  and  make  a  coffin,  and  bury  these 
little  dead  birds." 

Frances  wiped  her  eyes,  and  Anne  giving  her  a  kiss, 
they  went  away  to  do  as  she  proposed.  After  they  had 
made  a  little  coffin,  they  put  the  two  little  dead  birds 
into  it.  Then  William  got  a  spade,  and  dug  a  grave 
just  large  enough  to  hold  the  little  coffin :  and,  as  he 
lowered  it  into  the  grave,  Mary  wiped  away  the  tears 
which  gathered  in  her  eyes.  When  William  had  filled 
up  the  grave,  they  all  returned  to  their  mamma,  who 
said — 

"  My  dear  children,  do  not  let  us  dismiss  this  interest- 
ing subject  without  a  closer  application.  My  dear  Fran- 
ces, come  near  to  me.  and  hear  what  I  have  to  say." 

Frances  drew  near  with  some  timidity.    Conscious  of 


CONVENIENT    FOOD.  23 

her  faults,  and  expecting  the  word  of  truth  to  be  direct- 
ed to  her  heart,  she  had  at  that  moment  ratiier  have 
escaped  from  it.'  Buther  mamma,  taking  her  hands  into 
hers,  and  silting  down  on  a  garden  stool  that  was  nigh, 
she  felt  that  the  words  would  be  words  of  love,  and  her 
heart  beginning  to  soften,  the  tears  were  ready  to  flow, 
for  she  knew  her  mamma  would  speak  to  her  of  Jesus 
and  of  his  blood,  which  was  shed  for  sinners. 

"  Do  you  know  quite  well,  my  child,  that  among  the 
fruits  of  the  Spirit  enumerated,  Gal  v.,  there  is  one 
called  Temperance?" 

"  Yes,  Mamma,"  she  replied. 

"Are  you  not  also  conscious,  my  dear  child,  that 
your  desire  of  indulging  your  appetite  is  quite  contrary 
to  this  holy  fruit?" 

"  Yes,  Mamma." 

"  Then  what  are  you  to  do  in  order  to  overcome  the 
one,  and  to  obtain  the  other  ?" 

"  I  must  ask  the  Lord  Jesds  to  give  me  the  Holy 
Spirit." 

"  Yes,  my  child,  to  him  must  you  come  for  all  help, 
and  he  will  not  send  you  empty  away.  Here  is  a  sub- 
ject on  which  you  must  indeed  open  your  mouth  wide, 
in  earnest  prayer,  and  wait  on  the  Lord  for  his  gracious 
answer.  '  Ask,  and  ye  shall  receive,'  he  says,  and  after 
showing  how  an  earthly  father  will  act  toward  his  child 
that  asks  for  bread,  how  does  he  conclude  ?" 

"  He  says,  '  How  much  more  will  your  heavenly 
Father  give  the  Holy  Spirit  to  them  that  ask  Him?"' 

"Will  you  then,  my  dear  Frances,  profit  by  this 
gracious  instruction,  and  will  you  ask  for  the  Holy 
Spirit  ?" 

"  Yes,  Mamma,  I  will  try." 


94  CONVENIENT    FOOD. 

"  Do  you  believe  the  Lord  will  give  yoa  the  Holy 
Spirit  when  you  ask  ?" 

"  He  says  He  will,  Mamma." 

"  That  is  enough,  my  child  ;  what  the  Lord  says  is 
yea  and  amen.  It  is  written,  '  Hath  he  said,  and  will 
he  not  do  it  V  " 

"  Yes,  Mamma,  I  know  God  is  Truth,  He  cannot  lie." 

"  But  you  know  also,  my  dear  Frances,  when  the 
Holy  Spirit  is  given,  he  takes  up  his  abode  in  the  heart, 
and  he  acts  in  the  soul,  and  will  not  dwell  there  without 
producing  his  holy  fruit ;  and  tell  me  now  what  is  the 
fruit  you  particularly  want  to  overcome  this  sinful  de- 
sire of  appetite  which  prevails  in  your  heart. 

"  Is  it  not  temperance,  Mamma  ?" 

"Yes,  and  if  He  comes  into  your  heart,  he  will  give 
it  you,  and  moreover  teach  you  to  repent  of  your  sins ; 
for  consider,  my  Frances,  sin  is  an  oifence  against  him, 
and  needs  to  be  repented  of.     Do  you  repent?" 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  Mamma." 

"  But  repentance  is  more  than  sorrow  ;  it  will  make 
you  ashamed  before  God,  and  make  you  feel  yourself 
vile ;  and  it  will  also  make  you  carefully  watchful 
against  the  temptation;  it  will  make  you  anxious  to 
quit  the  sin,  and  clear  your  soul  from  its  power  ;  it  will 
make  you  indignant  against  it,  and  urge  you  to  seek 
that  strength  from  the  Spirit,  which  will  resist  the  sin, 
and  overcome  it.  When,  therefore,  you  ask  for  the 
Holy  Spirit,  be  willing  that  the  Lord  should  Jill  you. 
Be  ready  to  exercise  the  mighty  gift  for  all  his  offices, 
to  convict  you  of  sin,  to  lead  you  to  true  expectations, 
and  to  strengthen  you  to  overcome  your  sin,  giving  you 
that  grace  which  is  specially  opposed  to  the  leading  sin 
of  your  heart." 


CONVENIENT   FOOD.  25 

"I  wish  I  had  this  gift;  for  my  sin  makes  me  very 
unhappy:  I  know  it  is  wrong." 

"  Do  not  stop  in  wishes,  dear  child,  go  and  pray  ; 
*  Ask,  and  ye  shall  receive.'  '  Open  yonr  mouth  wide'  in 
the  full  utterance  of  all  your  distress,  and  of  all  you 
desire;  pray  for  what  you  loant,  name  it;  pray  for 
repentance,  and  for  temperance.  Pray  that  the  lust  of 
your  appetite  may  he.,crucifi€d,  and  pray  that  the  blood 
of  Jesus,  the  Lamb  of  God  who  taketh  away  sin,  may 
be  sprinkled  upon  your  guilty  soul,  and  cleanse  it  from 
all  sin.  He  giveth  liberally,  and  upbraideth  not.  He  is 
angry  only  when  we  neglect  his  promises  and  his  gifts. 

"  It  is  not  long  since,  dear  Mary,  that  you  and  I  con- 
versed on  this  text,  '  My  people  would  not  hearken  to 
my  voice,  Israel  would  none  of  me  :  so  I  gave  them  up 
to  their  own  hearts''  lusts,''  Ps.  Ixxxi.  A  dreadful  judg- 
ment !  what  would  become  of  you,  dear  Frances,  if  you 
were  given  up  to  the  dominion  of  your  appetite  ?" 

"But,  my  dear  Mamma,"  Mary  said,  "do  you  not 
remember  the  end  of  that  j)salm,  what  a  sweet  verse 
there  is?" 

"  Repeat  it,  dear  girl,  and  let  little  Frances  hear  it  ?" 

" '  Had  they  hearkened  and  obeyed,  then  should  he 
have  fed  them  with  the  finest  of  the  wheat,  and  with 
honey  out  of  the  rock  should  I  have  satisfied  them.'  " 

"  O  my  children,"  said  their  Mamma,  "  here  is  spirit- 
ual food  for  the  spiritual  appetite !  You  know  who  is 
the  Bread  of  Life,  and  who  is  the  Rock  of  our  salvation. 
Turn  unto  him  with  your  whole  heart,  and  though  you  ' 
feel  the  burden  of  the  body  of  this  death,  you  shall  soon 
be  able  to  thank  God,  who,  through  Jesus  Christ  our 
Lord,  will  deliver  you." 


26  CONVENIENT   FOOD. 

Poor  Esau  repented  too  late, 
That  once  he  his  birthright  despised. 
And  sold,  for  a  morsel  of  meat. 
What  could  not  too  highly  be  prized: 
How  great  was  his  anguish  when  told, 
The  blessing  he  sought  to  obtain 
Was  gone  with  the  birthright  he  sold, 
And  none  could  recall  it  again ! 

He  stands  as  a  warning  to  all, 
Wlierever  the  Gospel  shall  come  ; 
O  hasten  and  yield  to  the  call, 
While  yet  for  repentance  there's  room 
Your  season  will  quickly  be  past; 
Then  hear  and  obey  it  to-day, 
Lest  when  you  seek  mercy  at  last, 
The  Saviour  should  frown  you  away. 

What  is  it  the  world  can  propose  ? 
A  morsel  of  meat  at  the  best ! 
For  this  are  you  willing  to  lose 
A  share  in  the  joys  of  the  blest? 
Its  pleasure  will  speedily  end. 
Its  favor  and  praise  are  but  breath ; 
And  what  can  its  profits  befriend 
Your  soul  in  the  moments  of  death  ? 

If  Jesus,  for  these,  you  despise. 
And  sin  to  the  Saviour  prefer, 
In  vain  your  entreaties  and  cries. 
When  summon 'd  to  stand  at  his  bar: 
How  will  you  his  presence  abide? 
What  anguish  will  torture  your  heart  \ 


CONVENIENT  FOOD.  27 

The  saints  all  enthroned  by  his  side. 
And  you  be  compeU'd  to  depart. 
Too  often,  dear  Saviour,  have  I 
Preferr'd  some  poor  trifle  to  thee ; 
How  is  it  thou  dost  not  deny 
The  blessing  and  birthright  to  me  1 
No  better  than  Esau  I  am. 
Though  pardon  and  heaven  be  mine , 
To  me  belongs  nothing  but  shame, 
The  praise  and  the  glory  be  thine. 


ON    PROFITING    BY    INSTRUCTION. 


Dear  children,  have  you  ever  thought 
That  you  will  come  to  school  in  vain, 
Unless  you  think  of  what  you  're  taught, 
And  try  instruction  to  obtainl 

God's  holy  word  says,  "Meditate  upon  these  things; 
give  thyself  wholly  to  them  :  that  thy  profiting  may 
appear  unto  all." — 1  Ti7nothy  iv.  15. 

Read  what  our  Saviour  teaches  us  in  Matthew  vii.  21  to 
29 ;  and  in  Matthew  xxv.  14  to  26. 

Why  do  you  go  to  school  ? — To  get  instruction. 
Is  it  enough  to  remember  the  words  which  you  are 
taught  ? — No,  you  should  try  to  understand  them. 
Is  this  all  1 — No,  you  should  practise  what  you  know. 


28  CONVENIENT    FOOD. 

How  may  you  prove  that  you  have  not  come  to 
school  in  vain  this  past  year  ? — By  being  doers  as  well 
as  hearers  of  your  heavenly  Master's  will. 

How  may  you  endeavor  to  profit  by  what  you  read 
and  learn  ? — By  meditating  upon  it  afterward. 

In  what  way  shall  you  study  spiritual  things? — Give 
yourself  wholly  to  them. 

What  is  to  be  the  fruit  of  your  knowledge? — That 
profiting  may  appear  unto  all. 

How  may  you  evidence  that  you  profit  by  instruc- 
tion ? — By  your  holy  walk  and  conversation. 

Let  us  now  to  Jesus  turn, 
For  our  misspent  moments  mourn. 
Let  us  in  His  Spirit's  power, 
Promise  to  stand  still  no  more. 
All  our  time  and  vigor  give, 
Serve  our  Maker  while  we  live, 
Use  for  God  the  talent  given, 
Work  on  earth,  and  rest  in  heaven. 


THE  END. 


BEAUTIFUL  ^ 


Junenile  |nbltfatt0tts, 


GENERAL    PROTESTANT    EPISCOPAL 
SUNDAY    SCHOOL    UNION, 


Jor  (Sifts. 


ILLUSTRATED. 


DANIEL    DANA,    Jr.,    Age»t, 

No.   20   John  Strekt. 

1853. 


BEAUTIFUL    JUVENILE    BOOKS. 


I  |[jaiiotn  of  %i  Crass. 


BY    THE    REV.    WILLIAM    ADAMS 


WITH     BEAUTIFUL    ENGRAVINGS, 

J'rom  Orsigns  fin  Cf)apmaii. 

(1) 


BEAUTIFUL    JUVENILE    BOOKS. 

€liB    Distant  IJills* 

"  These  are  among  the  most  suitable  presents  for  the  ap- 
proaching festival,  which  Christian  parents  or  friends  can 
select  for  their  children.  The  only  allegories  which  we 
thitik  entitled  to  be  compared  with  them  are  the  '  Pilgrim's 
Progress,'  and  those  of  Archdeacon  Wilberforce.  While  the 
mixture  of  an  erroneous  theology  checks  our  admiration  of 
the,  in  some  respects,  unrivalled  work  of  Bunyan,  there  is  no 
drawback  of  that  kind  from  those  of  Wilberforce  or  Adams. 
The  allegories  immediately  before  us  are  brought  into  a  small 
compass,  and  will  be  easily  understood  by  all  but  very  young 
children.  The  printing  and  general  getthig  up  of  the  books 
is  worthy  of  the  books  themselves ;  and  the  illustrations 
which  have  been  added  to  the  American  edition  are  in  the 
best  style  of  American  art.  We  cheerfully  give  to  these 
books  the  very  highest  commendation."       [  True  Catholic. 

*  *  *  "  "  Not  long  ago,  as  we  lay  on  a  sick  bed, 
the  '  Shadow  of  the  Cross'  was  read  to  us;  and  we  thought, 
at  the  time,  that  there  could  be  nothing  more  beautiful  or 
more  affecting.  This  impression  has  never  since  been  ef- 
faced ;  a:nd  we  regard  these  allegories  as  worthy  of  a  place 
in  every  family,  and  every  Sunday-School  Library."  *  *  » 
[  Yovng  Churchman'' s  Miscellany. 
"  Written  in  simple,  earnest  language,  free  from  affectation, 
or  attempt  at  fine  writing ;  they  also  possess  much  narrative 
interest,  and  no  small  degree  of  descriptive  power.  Such 
qualities  render  it  an  eligible  work  to  put  into  the  hands  of 
children.  The  wood  engravings  are  unusually  well  executed, 
from  the  elegant  designs  ol  Chapman  ;  they  are  charming 
specimens  of  the  art.  The  paper,  print  and  binding,  are  all 
of  good  quality ;  and  show  that  good  taste  and  good  judg- 
ment have  presided  over  the  mechanical  as  well  as  the  intel 
lectual  department."  (2)  \_Literary  World 


BEAUTIFUL    JUVENILE    BOOKS. 


1^  'Bi^i^ni  §}H(^ 


BY    THE    REV.    WILLIAM    ADAMS. 


WITH     BEAUTIFUL    ENGRAVINGS, 

jTioin  Occitjns  in  Cljnpman. 
(3) 


BEAUTIFUL  JUVENILE  BOOKS. 

'djif   iiHtnnt   lills. 

^*We  have  before  us  a  little  work  entitled,  'The  Distant 
Hills ;  An  Allegory,'  from  the  ijvess  of  the  General  Protest- 
ant Episcopal  Sunday-School  Union,  whose  Depository  is  at 
Number  20  John-street.  It  is  a  most  touching  and  tender 
allegory,  and  is  altogether  worthy  of  its  predecessor,  *  The 
Shadow  of  the  Cross.'  Over  the  pages  of  these  narratives 
there  is  shed  an  aroma  of  purity,  suited  to  the  pictures  which 
they  so  exquisitely  paint.  Indeed,  the  pictures  themselves 
seem  to  be  rather  breathed  than  painted.  We  know  not  how 
to  express  our  sincere  admiration,  as  we  believe  it  would  be 
impossible  to  meet  with  works  of  this  kind  more  charmingly 
conceived  and  finished.  They  ought  to  be  widely  circulated 
among  the  young,  in  whose  pure  hearts  they  would  be  en- 
graved indelibly  in  days  when  the  feverish  novel  would  in- 
terest them  no  more.  As  allegories  they  possess  the  highest 
merit.  The  outlines  are  distinct,  the  accessories  replete  with 
classic  grace,  and  the  embodiment  of  the  truth  palpable. 
The  Distant  Hills,  bedecked  with  green  and  rife  with 
m,elody ;  the  Crumbling  Ruin,  crawled  over  by  the  green 
lizard,  and  given  to  decay ;  these  are  symbols  which  a  child's 
heart  may  interpret,  and  over  which  a  man's  eyes  may  weep. 
And  it  is  delightful  to  see  ever  in  the  foreground  of  the  pic- 
tures, whether  meandering  in  the  meadow  or  gushing  from 
the  rock,  the  purifying  waters  of  the  flood,  over  which 

'  The  eternal  dove 

Hovers  ou  softest  wiiig.' 

"  For  the  Chi-istian  parent,  these  works,  so  pure  and  happy 
in  influence,  so  exquisite  in  embellishment,  so  compressed  in 
compass,  are  most  desirable  for  gifts.  They  would  be  re- 
ceived with  smiles,  and  perused  with  tears,  and  gratitude 
would  be  returned  by  the  intermingling  of  both." 

{Knickerbocker,  Oct.,  184^. 

(4) 


BEAUTIFUL    JUVENILE    BOOKS. 


"With  respect  to  this,"  (Bunyan's  Pilgrim's  Progress,) 
"  the  class  of  works  which  we  now  notice,  may  be  con- 
sidered as  minor  allegories,  although  perfectly  carried  out 
and  finished.  They  have  been,  perhaps,  more  read  and  ad- 
mired than  anything  of  the  kind  since  the  days  of  John  Bun- 
yan,  although  their  best  praises  have  not  been  loud.  They 
have  been  the  silent  tears  shed  on  their  perusal.  CTlje 
SJaUoto  of  t|)e  (HvohS  was  the  first  allegory  from  the  pen  of 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Adams,  and  its  favorable  reception  prepared  the 
way  for  that  continued  series  which  has  since  followed,  to 
cheer  the  Christmas  holidays,  and  to  impart  instruction  and 
delight  to  thousands.  It  is  written  in  the  purest  Saxon-Eng- 
lish, and  filled  on  every  page  with  touches  of  the  most  tender 
beauty.  If  for  chastity  of  style  alone,  it  is  worthy  of  being 
read  and  admired  with  the  finest  models  in  the  language. 
Alas!  the  author  of  these  exquisite  productions  has  gone 
whither  the  Cross  casts  no  '  shadow  ;'  but  the  noon-tide  sun 
shines  constantly,  and  '  sorrow  and  sighing  are  done  away.* 
What  we  have  from  his  pen,  we  treasure  up  and  lay  to  heart. 
He  has  gone  to  the  Eternal  City,  and  to  the  Btstant  ^HJillSf, 
which  he  has  pictured  so  beautifully.  Parents,  and  others, 
who  wish  to  furnish  suitable  presents  for  the  young,  will  find 
at  the  Depository,  No.  20  John-street,  a  selection  of  the 
choicest  books,  whose  external  embellishments  accord  with 
that  which  is  written.  The  page  on  which  these  works  are 
printed  is  like  a  little  slab  of  Parian  marble ;  so  pure,  so  white, 
80  polished  ;  and  rivals  the  utmost  luxury  of  the  English  press." 
lK7uckerbocker,  Feb.,  1B49. 

"  The  publications  of  the  Gen.   Prot.    Episcopal   Sunday 

School  Union,   (Daniel    Dana,  Jr.,   Agent,)  are  exceedingly 

beautiful — superior,  indeed,  to  any  books  of  ihe  kind  we  have 

ever  seen." 

[  Vermont  Watchman* 


(5) 


BEAUTIFUL    JUVENILE    BOOKS. 


tl)e  ®i^  Jlatt'0  §mt 


W}S,it^  IScautifuI  fengrabtncfs,  from  ©csigiig  ig  ffi53£tr. 
(6) 


BEAUTIFUL  JUVENILE  BOOKS. 

"  This  is  a  narrative  of  an  '  Old  Man'  of  ninety-six  years, 
whom  the  writer  first  meets  in  a  romantic  dell,  on  the  coast 
of  the  Isle  of  Wight,  and  in  whose  mind  the  one  all-engross- 
ing thought,  which  took  complete  possession  of  every  feeling 
and  sympathy  of  his  nature,  was  that  of  his  final  Home. 
His  residence  in  the  asylum  for  half  a  century,  his  literal  in- 
terpretation of  the  precepts  and  promises  of  God's  Holy 
Word,  his  reputed  insanity,  his  allegorical  conversation,  hia 
attachment  to  '  little  Annie,'  his  past  histoiy  and  bereave- 
ments, his  death,  and  his  resting-place  in  the  church-yard, 
are  incidents  which  the  gifted  author  has  woven  into  a  story 
told  with  great  simplicity  and  effect.  The  illustrations  of  the 
engraver  are  as  tastefully  executed  as  the  designs  (which  are 
original  with  the  Union)  are  happily  conceived.  We  are 
not  surprised  at  the  popularity  of  Mr.  Adams'  books." 

[_Ckurck  Review. 

*  *  *  *  *  "  If  it  is  not  true,  there  is  an  air  of  truth 
about  it  which  is  unequalled  except  by  De  Foe.  But  whether 
truth  or  fiction,  it  is  one  of  the  most  instructive  little  books 
we  know  of;  and  one,  to  the  tendencies  of  which  we  can 
give  the  most  unreserved  recommendation." 

[  True  Catholic. 

"  '  The  Old  Man's  Home'  is  by  the  author  of  '  The  Shadow 
of  the  Cross,'  and  may  well  take  place  by  its  side  as  a  com- 
panion volume.  The  title  plainly  indicates  the  subject. 
Devoid  of  the  slightest  approach  to  rant  or  turgidity,  the 
touching  and  simple  story  is  told  with  much  purity  and  grace 
of  style ;  and  the  interest  which  is  early  excited,  is  sustained, 
without  flagging,  to  the  very  last  page.  Let  a  book  like  this 
be  put  into  the  hands  of  a  child,  and  we  have  no  fear  of  the 
result."  [^Literari/  World. 

(7) 


^s^^ 


